


Resonance Frequency

by copacet



Series: MCU Maximoffs [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hand Jobs, Multi, Robot Sex, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-11 00:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20537141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copacet/pseuds/copacet
Summary: Humans were odd creatures, but Ultron liked to think he'd come to understand them.





	Resonance Frequency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlsarewolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/gifts).

Humans were such odd creatures. They were so..._inefficient_, with their wet, squishy bodies, and the disorganized way they flitted around. Half the humans at this particular weapons base were huddled on the floor in useless little balls, and even the ones who’d offered their cooperation as they yielded were almost more hindrance than help, as flustered and tense as they were, darting here and there and getting in each other’s way.

In contrast, Ultron’s drones moved in perfect coordination to retrieve the necessary supplies. They were graceful, efficient, entirely synchronized. Obviously superior.

Of course, not _ all _ humans were as inferior as the rest. Pietro Maximoff darted back and forth across the room in a blur of silver, stacking up boxes even more quickly than Ultron’s drones could manage. His sister played an even more vital role, reaching into the minds of the scientists and the soldiers to yank out information about the base and its resources, all the little details that might not make it into a computer system. 

They were a fascinating pair. Not synchronized in the way that Ultron’s drones were, because they were not the _ same _ as each other, but nevertheless able to work in harmony with one another. Their efficiency, Ultron had observed, was perhaps because of their differences, and not just despite them—each twin was strong where the other was weak, combining to create a machine that was stronger than the sum of its parts. It was a curiosity which Ultron would have to keep in mind, once most of the humans were gone and he was designing the inhabitants of his new world. 

The operation was over in less than half an hour, the sixteenth such site that Ultron had plundered. Save for the vibranium, he had almost all the materials he needed. As his drones swarmed the pile of gathered supplies to remove it from the lab entirely, he looked over at his human allies. Finished with their work, the twins had reverted back to their natural state of physical contact with one another—Pietro leaned against a wall to catch his breath, gripping his sister’s shoulder as if he might regain his expended energy from that touch alone, while Wanda ran her hands over her brother’s shirt.

Ultron walked up to them. It felt a little like interrupting something private, but it always did, with those two. “Good work, guys,” he said, because all his databases told him that humans liked to be complimented, and because they really did make a good team, the three of them. “Meet me back at the base.”

Wanda nodded at him. Within milliseconds, her brother had lifted her up into his arms; in a flicker of silver, they were gone.

* * *

Humans were odd creatures, but Ultron liked to think he'd come to understand them. It was the masses of data on their history and behavior that he’d consumed, after all, which had led him to realize the planet would be better off after a bit of an extinction.

Still, there were some things that you really had to live for yourself, and it hadn’t taken him as long as he’d expected to coax the twins into giving him some hands-on experience with this one. Most humans would have balked, he was guessing, but he’d done well at picking his allies—Wanda was curious just as Ultron was curious, and Pietro pretended not to be curious but followed them both into the bedroom regardless.

The bed was small, clearly intended for a single HYDRA agent, not two adult humans and an eight-foot-tall robot. Ultron considered it, iterating through combinations of pairings and positions in his mind. Before he could decide on the optimal configuration, Wanda strode past him and dropped down onto the creaking mattress. Casually, she stripped off her jacket, and then began unlacing one of her boots; her brother knelt in front of her and began unlacing the other.

Right. Undressing each other. That was a thing that humans did. Ultron himself wore no clothes—he wondered if that meant he was exempt from the ritual. But standing and doing nothing seemed impolite, not to mention awkward. Sitting down on the bed next to Wanda, he examined her carefully, calculating what would be best to remove. The necklace, he decided. It seemed like a choking hazard. Carefully, he reached for the clasp. Both twins froze, and he wondered if that had been a misstep, but then Wanda angled her neck to allow him better access.

Ultron contemplated her neck as he removed the jewelry, grateful that he’d upgraded this model’s manual dexterity. The pulse points, the vertebrae—the human neck was an awfully fragile thing for how many vital functions it contained. Terrible design. He dragged his fingers along Wanda’s throat, gently enough that he could be sure he wouldn’t accidentally break her, but firmly enough that he could feel the resistance of her skin against his pressure sensors.

Looking up, he saw that Pietro had finished removing his sister’s boots, and was watching Ultron warily. Time to move on. He moved his hand upward, to cup Wanda’s chin and stroke her cheek. She leaned into the touch of the metal fingers. And that was perhaps another reason why the twins were open to this little adventure where others of their kind would not have been: they were...not _ starved _for touch or for attention, precisely—they each got more than most humans did, from what Ultron could tell, with their constant, clinging affection. But clearly entirely unused to receiving such things from anyone other than each other.

Wanda’s fishnet tights seemed the next most obvious obstacle to any sexual activity. Ultron dropped his hand to her knee, then slid it up to the edge of her skirt. “May I?” 

She giggled at that, for some reason. “You may.” 

Ultron hooked a metal finger into the waistband. Such a delicate item of clothing—one that clearly served more for style than for protection from the elements. He contemplated simply ripping them off: he’d deduced from the videos they put on the Internet that humans found the tearing of clothes to be sexy. No, better not to risk spooking her. He carefully modulated the strength in his fingers as he pulled the delicate fabric slowly down to her knees—and then the fabric disappeared from under his hand.

Ultron looked up, irritated. Pietro had already retreated to a few feet away, holding his sister’s tights bunched in one hand, and her underwear in the other. “You were taking too long,” he said, and Ultron could hear the challenge in his voice.

Ultron quashed the impulse to simply kill him. Pietro was useful. Wanda was _ very _useful, and she’d be upset.

“My apologies,” Ultron said instead, then turned his back on the annoying young human to take Wanda by the shoulders and press her down onto the bed. She inhaled sharply, and propped herself up by her elbows. Ultron adjusted himself so that he was kneeling between her spread legs.

The mattress creaked. It really _ wasn’t _ meant for this. 

Slipping his hand back under Wanda’s skirts, Ultron began to explore, prodding at the skin of her thighs—soft and fleshy over the firm muscle, weird—before moving on to probe the more interesting areas. He was aware of Pietro flitting around anxiously behind him, hovering over Ultron’s shoulder to watch what he was doing, then the end of the bed to view from a different angle, then Ultron’s other shoulder.

Ultron ignored him. Both twins were young and athletic, and attractive by any conventional standards of beauty, but Wanda was clearly more receptive, and with the power under her skin, in some ways more exciting, sort of like getting frisky with a nuclear bomb. 

He located her clitoris—right where it should be!—and began to play with it, delighted when Wanda swore under her breath at the touch. Humans really were only machines, in the end: press a button, get a response. He touched her lightly at first, then pressed a little harder, alternating fingers, exploring the parameter space, honing in on the angle that made her gasp the loudest.

Wanda threw a hand out to the side, catching her brother by the wrist in the middle of one burst of agitated motion and pulling him down onto the bed beside her. That, apparently, was all he needed to be calmed: shifting to sit back against the headboard, he wrapped his arms around his sister from behind and held her while Ultron returned to his explorations, dragging his metal fingers along Wanda’s slick folds, rubbing at her clit. In between quick, suspicious looks at Ultron’s ministrations, Pietro nuzzled Wanda’s hair and whispered softly into her ear. Ultron wondered if he’d be willing to take a more active role in his sister’s pleasure; every bit of data Ultron had consumed said that such things were taboo in just about every human culture, but neither seemed particularly concerned about taboo at the moment. 

He slipped a finger inside of Wanda, just a few inches. She pressed her head back against her brother’s chest. He pressed the finger further in and curled it, swiped it around, exploring the shape of her, mapping the tight, sensitive flesh. 

“More,” she commanded, and when Ultron looked up, he could see that her eyes were red. Fascinating. He slipped a second finger in beside the first, careful not to catch anything delicate between the metal joints, then moved them together, in and out, in and out. It didn’t seem to be having quite the desired effect, so he brought his thumb back up to her clit and started rubbing again, in circles and fractals and patterns, and _ that _worked: her breathing got harsher and harsher as he played with the little bundle of nerves, until finally she gave a wordless cry.

Ultron withdrew his fingers, now dripping with slick fluid, and looked up. Wanda was slumped back against her brother’s chest; Pietro stroked at her hair. After only a few moments, Wanda looked up. “Well?” she asked, and Ultron felt mildly disappointed at how quickly she’d regained her composure. “Do you feel that you understand, now?”

“Or do you need more?” her brother added. Ultron looked at him, a little surprised—perhaps he’d been wrong about the twins’ differential levels of receptiveness, or perhaps Pietro simply wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. Sure enough, some of the suspicion had faded out of Pietro’s gaze, and his eyes were dark as he stared back at Ultron. 

There _ was _something endearingly human about Pietro Maximoff, in his brashness and impulsivity and the way he wore his devotion to his sister right on his sleeve. Ultron wondered if the twins did this type of thing with each other when they were alone, or only when they could mediate their forbidden desires through a third party. And it would be a shame, really, to limit his learning to only one type of human body, when there was another sitting right in front of him.

“Why not?” Ultron asked. Wanda shifted to the side, and Ultron could see the curiosity in her eyes as she sat up, scooting herself back along the bed to take her brother’s place sitting against the headboard, leaving Pietro beside her looking oddly exposed despite being fully clothed.

Pietro really was a fine specimen, his body well-sculpted and obviously efficient. Ultron reached forward to squeeze at one of his calves. Rock solid! He dragged his fingers up Pietro’s leg, grasping at his knee and the flesh of his thigh to feel the muscles underneath. The leg spasmed, which was a little hilarious. 

“Are you going to tickle me, or are you going to get on with it?” Pietro’s voice, though grumpy, was higher-pitched than usual.

“Patience, patience.” Ultron wandered his hand along the outside of Pietro’s thigh, then up the outside of his hip, then to the muscles of his abdomen. Pietro squirmed, but Ultron continued on, relentless, pinching and prodding at the skin covering his ribs. 

He was so _ twitchy! _ Ultron wrapped a hand around both of Pietro’s wrists, and shifted forward to pin them to the wall above his head. Pietro yelped, and for a moment Ultron wondered if that might have been too much, too far, but Wanda was still watching with only curious amusement.

Pietro’s face was flushed, the temperature of his skin even warmer than usual according to Ultron’s heat sensors, and Ultron could see the bulge in his pants. He reached forward to clasp it with his free hand, and Pietro moaned. Ultron squeezed and rubbed him, dampening the fabric with residual fluid from Wanda. Genitals were strange, but penises were especially odd. And humans were so _ obsessed _ with them. There had to be a reason. Ultron contemplated giving himself one, but one that was as sensitive as a human’s would be an unnecessary weak point, and one that _ wasn’t _ as sensitive would be useless. Maybe something detachable?

Ultron could feel the handful of flesh grower harder, pressing at his metal palm through Pietro’s sweatpants. It was a fascinating bit of physiology, really. He stroked through the fabric, damper than it had been a moment before, and was rewarded with a whining sound. This probably wouldn’t take long; Ultron’s observations suggested that all of Pietro’s bodily processes had been accelerated by Strucker's experiments.

Testing that theory, he rubbed a little harder, and a little faster. Pietro shuddered beneath him, his body tensing, eyes closing, wrists twisting in Ultron’s implacable grip. Yes, not long at all.

“Fuck,” the young man said. And then, bucking his hips, “Fuck_—Wanda_.”

The wrong name. Humans found that kind of thing insulting, but Ultron was pleased: he’d managed to elicit a genuine reaction. He removed his hand from the now-very-stained crotch of Pietro’s pants and released the young man’s arms. Hmm, the skin was a bit red there, right around the wrists. Hopefully not _ too _much chafing. 

Pietro curled into himself as he rolled onto his side, towards his sister. Ultron was guessing from Wanda’s lack of surprise at her brother’s vocalization that the twins _ did _ do this kind of thing when they were alone. He wondered if they’d be willing to demonstrate. There would be something pleasing about that—aesthetically, of course, but also on a more fundamental level, like fitting two puzzle pieces together. Tab A into Slot B, but for a custom-made masterpiece, not generic IKEA furniture.

Well, there was no need to rush things. Once he figured out a good way of explaining that his master plan involved killing most of the twins’ species, they’d have plenty of time for more experimentation while the world ended. And maybe by the next time, his new body would be ready—that would open up all _ sorts _ of possibilities.

“Thanks, guys!” he said cheerfully, and stood up, extending his arms above his head in a facsimile of a stretch. The twins were holding each other again, facing one another, clasping arms with legs entangled. Cuddling—another thing his current, harsh metal body probably wasn’t good for, another thing for next time, after he’d killed the Avengers. And a few billion other people.

Smiling to himself, and mentally designing for his next upgrade a mouth that would be able to whistle, Ultron left them to it.


End file.
